


Alive

by Iost



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anger, Angst, Background Relationships, Bad Fic, Crushes, Drawing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Hate Speech, Heavy Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mentioned AI, Please Don't Hate Me, Rants, Relationships are just slightly implied, Well... Almost Everyone, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:57:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6460315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iost/pseuds/Iost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolina does something bad, The Freelancers are alive, Washington deserves a hug, and Caboose draws on helmets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaddyR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddyR/gifts).



> No WiFi  
> On phone

“My name is Agent Washington. Ex Freelancer of former Project Freelancer. I'm sure you know what... who I'm here for.” The Lieutenant in front of him nods, and starts to lead him and the other Sim Troopers to the room.

The room.

The room where all the other Freelancers are.

The room that holds everyone in it that Washington thought was dead.

That's right, they're not dead. None of them. It was all a trick. A stupid trick that the Director and the Counselor had made up.

Wash still doesn't understand how that all even worked out.

“So, you're telling me this? The people who you thought were dead, for years! Are actually alive? That's some fucked up shit right there.” Grif says, waving his arms around slightly.

Sarge grunts, and hits Grif’s back, with the butt of his gun, they all continue walking. Even as Grif complains loudly. Which he does every day, all the time.

“Can you shut up?” Tucker asks, snapping his head in the orange soldier's direction. That only makes the man start arguing with Tucker. Simmons mutters a, “Of course not.”

As the two continue arguing, with Simmons adding comments every once and awhile, Wash gets even more nervous.

He can hear the sound of South yelling at North and York. He can hear the sound of Maine's growling. He can hear the sound of Florida laughing at Wyoming's knock knock jokes.

It hurts. Because he's not sure if it's real. But it has to be, right? They're not dead after all. He's heard those things in his head so many times before, he's not even sure what's fake and what's real. So many things in his mind... and he can't even pull apart what's fake and what's real. It's bad enough he still struggles with his identity. He can't even remember who he is, let alone anything else.

“Stop! Stop arguing! Agent Washington needs us! And you're fighting over nothing!” Donut yells, forcing Caboose to push Tucker and Grif away from each other.

“Mister Washingtub, are you sad?” Caboose asks. He's holding Tucker up in one arm, and holding Grif in the other. It'd be funny if the Freelancer wasn't about to have a panic attack.

“No Caboose, I'm not sad. I just… I haven't seen these people in a long time. They were my family once, and now I don't even know who they are…”

It's quiet then, the Blue Soldier drops the two Sim Troopers, and starts to walk next to the gray and yellow soldier.

“Agent Washingtub, it is okay. We are your family now. You do not have to worry, we are here for you.” Caboose smiles at him, and Wash has to bite his lip to stop himself from collapsing on the floor.

Caboose's words were very sympathetic. He may not be very smart, but he seemed to know what to say at times. Maybe Church had taught him. Before… everything.

“Thanks, Caboose.” He whispers, Caboose smiles at him again. The Lieutenant let's them know that they're almost there.

“Hey, Wash? Carolina's in there too, right? So if they like… attack us. We have a super good fighter.” Tucker sounds awkward the entire time he talked, it was odd. Tucker never sounded awkward.

Unless he was talking about his rash.

“Yeah, she's in there. And they won't attack. At least, I hope they don't. South would more than anybody. Since I ya know, made her extra crispy.” Wash isn't sure if the Sim Troopers relax or tense at his words. They shouldn't be too nervous though, right? It's not like they were the ones to kill them or anything. Well... most of them.

Though he's also not sure why Carolina is already in there. He has a bad feeling about it…

A very bad feeling.

“Alright, we're here. I'm leaving now. They scare me.” The Soldier says, scampering off quickly. Washington stares at the door, scared out of his mind. He wishes he was with that Soldier now, running away.

“Alright, Agent. Let's go, I've got better things to do rather than hang out with dirty Blues and dead Freelancers.” Sarge mutters, pushing everyone out of the way so he can shove the door open.

When the Red Soldier opens the door, all of the Freelancer’s stop their conversations. Tucker pulls Washington into the room, ignoring everyone else. Like Sarge said, better hurry it up. Other people have lives too.

“Well, well, well… look who's here.” A Gold Soldier chuckles, standing up. Wash swallows loudly. York. Of course that asshole has to be the first one to talk.

“These are the Freelancer’s? Wow. So… underwhelming.” Grif snorts, Simmons elbows him. They start to argue. Like always.

“So, Washington… who's your friend's?” York asks, looking at them all. The other Freelancer's are still quiet, taking in the colorful Soldiers all lined up behind Wash. It was... strange. Who knew the Rookie would be the one who made it longer than everyone else?

Washington doesn't speak. He's too busy looking at them all. His friends. Caboose ends up replying for him.

“Hello, Mister Gold Guy! We are Agent Washington's family! The Red one is Sarge! The other Red one is Simons not Simmons, he's a robot. The Yellow one is Grif with two f’s. That one is Private Poppin’ Fresh! And Tucker!” He rants happily, he moves closer to Wash and wraps his arms around him tightly.

The Gray Soldier barely notices.

“That's… nice. So, Wash how've you been man?” York asks, a smile in his voice.

“I… I need you to take your helmet off. I need to know... I need to know if you're real.” His voice is barely above a whisper, York nods and looks back at the others. They all take their helmets off.

It's quiet for awhile, Wash is staring at them all. North and Florida's nice faces, Wyoming’s mustache, South's annoyed eye twitch, York's eye, Maine's tattoo… everything.

“Hey… Wash? Is it them?” Tucker asks, he's standing close to the elder man, almost touching him. Washington nods.

“I only have one question…” Tucker starts. He takes his helmet off, and hands it to Caboose. “Why are you here? Did you know about this before… everything?” Tucker points at Carolina accusingly. “Answer me!”

Caboose mutters something about Tucker having two questions instead of one, everyone ignores him.

It's even more quiet then, and even more awkward. The Freelancers stare at Tucker like he's about to get ripped in half. The Reds look at each other in worry, while Caboose plays with Tucker's helmet. Obvious to the situation.

“What are you doing, Laver-” Washington’s question gets cut off by Carolina, he's pretty sure he must've misheard what she says. Right? Thankfully she repeats it.

“Stop, Wash. He's right, I need to tell you the truth. The whole truth.” The Reds back up and stand close to the door, ready to run. Washington looks confused, as do the other Freelancers. What was she talking about? Tucker stands his ground next to Wash, glaring at the redhead.

“I knew about this. All of this. I knew the Directors plan, the entire time. When the Project started… and when it ended. This, all of this was his plan. To trick everyone into thinking we died… that they died. I was okay with it, at first. I didn't know that I would care for you all so much. I didn't know Connie would betray us, the Director didn't either. None of that was apart of the plan. The others dying, yes. It was to test you Wash, to test us all. He wanted to know how far he could go, before we broke. Before we became what we never wanted to be. Monsters.”

It's silent, after her speech… her confession. The Reds look at each other, trying to understand what she means. Caboose is still playing with Tucker's helmet, drawing on it actually. The Freelancers stare at Carolina, many emotions spread across their faces. Anger, betrayal, hurt….

But then, there was Wash. Tucker's focus was only on him. Washington. Who was staring at the floor, he takes his helmet off, but doesn't show his face.

“Oh dear, Washington…” Wyoming starts, his mustache twitches slightly when the Gray and Yellow Soldier cuts him off. Not by yelling though, which everyone thought would happen. Instead, he's quiet.

“You… knew.” He whispers, Carolina looks down in guilt. Tucker slaps his hand on Washington's shoulder piece, in a comforting manner.

“We should… go…” Grif suggests, Simmons agrees immediately. Sarge surprisingly nods in agreement, muttering something about Blue Team problems. They quickly exit the room without saying goodbye, Donut frowns, but follows soon after.

“See you later, Wash. I'll make you cupcakes when you get back!” Donut exclaims. He takes his helmet off and kisses Washington on the cheek, before running after his teammates.

“Is that your boyfriend?” South snorts, looking away from glaring daggers at Carolina to give him a teasing look.

“Like hell I'd let Donut have Wash. I'm not gay though. I'm just saying Wash and Donut together would be pretty gross.” Tucker mutters, making a couple of the Freelancer's snort, and others frown. Washington, obvious to the drama, continues to talk.

“You knew this entire time. You know what we've been through. You know how much we've hurt. You knew how we felt, when we had to drop to the very bottom. You knew how we felt when we had to kill each other. But you, you knew none of us would actually die.” He rambles, his head is still down. But they can tell he's about to start crying.

“How does it feel, Carolina? To know what you've done to us? That you were the one who broke us? Do you even know how much we suffered? How much you ruined us? You made us hate each other. We may be bad people, but we… we didn't deserve this…” Wash trails off, and takes a deep breath.

“I'm sorry. David, please, I'm so s-” Carolina starts blabbering apologies, but the freckled blond cuts her off harshly.

“Do not call me David.” Everyone waits for the man to say his name isn't David, and his name is Agent Washington, but it never comes. “Only my family calls me David. And you are not in my family.”

It's quiet again. Tucker's hand is still on Wash’s shoulder piece, and the Freelancer's mouths are open in shock.

“Damn, Wash. You're a savage.” South says, York gives her a fist bump. Carolina turns to look at them all, thankful that her helmet is still on.

“Guys… please. You have to believe me!” She begs, North shakes his head softly.

“No… we don't. You need to realize, that being the best isn't everything. I know how you are, Lina. You only did this because you wanted to be the best.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck where Theta was supposed to be.

“If you weren't so focused on being the best, we'd still have our AI’s. South and Wash would've had Eta and Iota. Maybe that whole Meta thing wouldn't have happened if you didn't give Sigma to Maine.” He stands suddenly, anger clear on his face.

“Maybe Epsilon wouldn't have committed suicide in Washington's head. Maybe Florida wouldn't have to go off and protect this Alpha. Maybe South wouldn't have tried to get me killed. Maybe York wouldn't have lost his eye. Maybe Wyoming wouldn't have tried to kill everyone. Maybe Connie would actually still be alive.” North stops are takes a deep breath, not used to ranting. “Maybe a lot of things. But maybe I'm just overreacting.”

South grabs her brothers hand, and pulls him back down onto the chair he was sitting in. After everything, they talked everything through. They're okay now. North doesn't treat South like a child, and South doesn't treat North like a liability.

“Hey, calm down. I'm supposed to be the one who flips a table.” She orders. He snorts, but relaxes slightly. Things were very stressful.

“Mister Washingtub… are you sure you're okay?” Caboose asks, finally looking up from drawing a stick figure Church on Tucker's helmet. Wash, surprisingly looks up.

“Yeah… I'm fine Caboose. You continue drawing, you won't want to join this conversation. It's an adult talk.” Caboose nods thoughtfully, before replying with, “Adult talks are boring!” Washington nods.

“They really are. Here, you can draw on my helmet too, okay bud?” Caboose nods excitedly, and grabs the older man's helmet.

“I'll draw you cats! I know you like cats, Mister Washingtub!” The blonde doesn't reply, he only smiles softly, before turning to the other Freelancers.

He doesn't say a thing.

“North is right, Lina. I really do understand why you did it, but that doesn't make it right. You betrayed us. I thought I loved you, really, I did. But, I can't ever forget or forgive you for what you've done.” York admits, rubbing the scar on his eye.

A sob comes from Carolina, she turns back around to look at Washington. They stare at each other for a long time. A really long time.

“We've been through so much together, Wash. But you can't forgive me for this? Why?” She questions, voice not much higher than a whisper.

“Why? Why?! The things we've been through together is because of this! Epsilon, the Reds, the Blues, all of it! Because of what you've done! Yes, I'm grateful that you lead me to my friends, my family. If you didn't betray us, then I would've never met them. The Reds would still be in Valhala, I would've never shot Donut, Caboose wouldn't be so depressed that he'd befriend a fucking robot, Tucker would probably still have his kid, and hell maybe Church wouldn't be gone!” Washington rants, finally yelling.

Tears are starting to slide down his face, he wipes them away vigorously. Tucker grabs his hands so he wouldn't rub his skin off. Last time Wash cried he rubbed his eyes for a full three hours, there was more blood than tears.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shh, it's alright. It's alright. Calm down. You're gonna start scaring Caboose.” Tucker soothes, grabbing the taller mans face in his hands. Wash starts to take deep breaths, something Florida taught him after another prank by the Freelancers went wrong.

“Thank you, Tucker.” He whispers, the Aqua Soldier nods and takes his hands off of the man. He then walks over to Caboose, who's trying to focus on drawing cats instead of the yelling. Tucker grabs Wash’s helmet so it's steady.

“Super duper glad you still use that breathing exercise, Washy Poo!” Florida smiles extra big, laughing when Wash makes a face at the nickname.

“Will you ever be able to forgive me?” Carolina asks, interrupting Wash glaring at a laughing Florida.

“No. Never. But, I don't want you to leave. We're still at war, and I can't have one of my best fighters leaving because of something like this. You will not leave until this war is over. Okay?”

“Okay.” Carolina agrees instantly, and they can all tell she has a small smile on her face. She knows none of them will forgive her, but she also knows that she should be grateful to still be here. And she is.

“Well, we have a war to win. So we can't be sitting here chatting. Let's go start training.” He turns to leave, the Blue's instantly behind him. The Freelancers follow after him, at a much slower pace.

“Jeez, Wash. When did you become such a hardass?” York asks, smiling widely. Tucker makes a sputtering noise.

“You mean he was always like this?!” He screeches, the Freelancer laugh loudly, Wash even cracks a smile.

“Remember the grappling hook story I told you?” The blond asks, Tucker nods slowly. “Just, think about that.”

They're all quiet again, other than York making jokes about Washington every now and then. Tucker gets more agitated after each joke, wanting to know more and more about Washington and the other Freelancers. That's when Wash pipes up.

“Hey, Tucker. Wanna know something?” The Aqua Soldier nods eagerly. “Florida is Captain Flowers.” Tucker stops in his tracks, and stares at Washington and then to Florida. No way.

“What the fuck, dude?!” He yells, Washington chuckles. He continues to blabber, until he realizes something. He turns to Florida… Flowers? Whoever it is, and stares into his eyes before saying, “I'm not giving you your armor back.”


	2. Running from Secrets... Or from Agent Washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash is a hardass and the Freelancers finally see it. They also place bets on who Wash is dating. Then Epsilon shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On phone

“All we do is fucking train!” Washington sighs, before turning towards the Aqua Soldier slowly. “Excuse me?”

“I said, all we do is train. Why can't we ever take a fucking break? We deserve a god dammed break!” Tucker's announcement earns a round of whooping and hollering from the Sim Troopers and Lieutenants, Wash rolls his eyes so far he thinks he might've busted something.

“Yeah, Mister Washington! Can't we have a break?” Palomo whined, stomping his feet like a five year old.

“And if I do happen to give you a break, what would you do? Go hide so I can't find you like what happened last time?” Smith sputters, “I didn't hide, sir!”

“No, you didn't. But if I give you all a break and if any of you hide, I will punish you. All of you.” Wash growls, fingers tightening around his battle rifle.

“So… No break?” Grif asks, still a hint of hope in his tone. Washington snarls, “Four laps! Now!”

That earns him collective sighs and groans from the group, but they all start running anyways. Wash can feel a large amount of eyes on him, and he turns slowly to see the Freelancers. “What?”

“What? What do you mean “what?” When'd you become so badass? It's hot.” York questions, a soft smirk forming on his face after the last part. Washington sighs, and cautiously takes his helmet off. “I became like this when Epsilon killed himself inside of my head. I became like this when I woke up and no one was there for me other than South and North. I became like this when none of my supposed friends came back for me when the MoI crashed. I became like this because this is who I'm meant to be.”

York steps back slightly, frowning. Each time they see the other Freelancers face they want to cringe. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve the scars littering his face and body, he didn't deserve to feel this way.

“To be fair…” York starts, guilt forming in his stomach. Wash growls, ending whatever what was about to come out of the brunet's mouth.

“Do not turn this around on me.” Wash orders, turning around again to watch the Sim Troopers and Lieutenants run. “Grif stop walking or I'll triple your laps!”

“Run you piece of shit!” Simmons hisses, pushing the others back roughly, pulling his inhaler out to suck in a large breath.

“Which one is the Blue one again?” North asks, raising his eyebrow. “Blue one? Caboose. His name is Caboose. Why?” Wash asks, glancing at the taller man.

“He's… Talking to his gun…” South says, weirded out by the whole situation. “That's just Freckles.”

“Freckles? He named his gun Freckles?” York snorts, smirking. Washington glares at him, crushing his smirk in an instant.

“Freckles is an AI. Caboose seems to make friends with most AIs. Like FILLS, and Epsilon, and Santa, and probably more.” The blond looks at the Blue Soldier, who seems to be showing Freckles the wall. He's not even going to get in between that.

“C'mon Wishy Washy,” York whines, high in his throat. “Why are you such an asshole now? Loosen up! Have sex! Eat! Sleep! Do something other than order everyone around.”

Wash opens his mouth, about to reply with a crude comment before Donut jogs up to him. The Pink Soldier rests his hand on Wash's chest plate and let's out a few quiet pants that definitely do not sound like they were from too much running.

“David, can I please have a break? I'm sore all over and sweaty from something that I don't enjoy!” He begs, breath puffing out on Washington's cheek. “Fine. Two minutes, sit down and rest up.”

The Pink Soldier jumps up and down slightly, and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Oh David, thank you! I promise to make it up for you later!” With another lingering kiss on the corner of Wash's lips, Donut is off to sit next to the cones. He can feel more than just the Freelancers eyes on him now.

“If I turn around and see that none of you are running, dish duty for the whole month!” He yells, cursing Donut silently.

“Oh, come on! You're giving Donut a break!” Bitters moans, throwing his hand up in the air in anger. Grif shouts in agreement. Wash sighs in annoyance, “That's because I like Donut.”

York and South whistle at him, elbowing each other in the sides slightly. “Ha! Wyoming owes us a twenty!”

“Excuse me?” Wash asks, giving them a flat look. South rolls her eyes, “We made a bet on whether or not you were with Donut or the green dude. York and I were right.”

“I am not “with” anybody. And his name is Tucker.” Tucker shouts from behind them, “Yeah and I'm aqua, not green! But guess what, bitch? Donut is definitely not getting Wash! I mean, unless he wants Wash to load another round into him! Bow chicka bo-ow! Jensen get off me!”

“Maybe if you kiss Wishy Washy on the ass and call him Daddy he'll let us all have a break.” Grif suggests, snapping Washington's patience in half. The Gray and Yellow Soldier snarls, spinning around angrily he stomps up to the Hawaiian and whispers with a dangerous smirk, “Dish duties for the rest of the year.”

“No! Wait! Wash! Please, buddy! Don't do this! I'll be good! I swear! Please don't give me dish duty. Caboose likes to go in the kitchen and squirt ketchup in the sink!” Washington chuckles darkly, leaning close to him. “Well that's just too bad.”

The Orange Soldier groans loudly, starting to jog slowly. Wash chuckles to himself and starts to walk back to where he was standing before.

“Hey there Agent Washington!” Sarge greets cheerfully, the Red Soldier looks at the other Freelancers for a moment before nodding at them. “Colorful dead but not-dead Freelancers.”

“Anyway, Wash. I need some tools.” Sarge says, fingertips lightly brushing over Wash’s wrist. “What for?” The blonde slowly crosses his arms. What was it with everyone flirting with him recently?

“A, uh, experiment. That White guy and Blue guy have been giving me ideas. We wanna test something out.”

“That something is along the lines of..?” Wash asks, already knowing Sarge is talking about Wyoming and Florida. There was no way Maine would willingly hang out with Sarge, and Caboose was too busy befriending a cone with Freckles.

“Time travel.” Sarge mumbles, kicking his feet at the floor slightly, Wash sighs loudly. Wyoming and Florida come in then.

“Hey there Wishy Washy! How're you this fine evening?” Florida asks in a cheery voice. Wyoming trails behind him, braiding his hair.

“You're not time traveling.” Washington states, giving them all three a flat look. “Oh come on, ol’ chap! Who shoved a stick up your bum?” Wyoming asks, earning a very irritated Tucker screaming, “Bow chicka bow wow!”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Sarge chuckles, “Tucker! Wyoming is the same Wyoming that we fought at Blood Gulch!”

The Aqua Soldier stops in his tracks, “The same Wyoming that kidnapped my son?” Sarge let's out an amused, “Yep!”

“Motherfucker!” Tucker yells, charging at the moustached man in anger, promptly punching him in the face before tackling him in to the ground.

The Red Soldier chuckles, pride in his stance. Washington closes his eyes for a few seconds. He hates life. “Stop! Lavernius, I'm burning your porn magazines. Reggie, I'm shaving your moustache when you fall asleep.”

That seems to be enough to stop their fighting, Wash feels a bit of smugness hit him. He smirks slightly before he gets hit with a wave of dizziness.

“Wash? You alright?” North asks in concern, hands out ready to grab him. The blond pushes his hands away before he gets hit with another nauseous wave.

“Washington?” The blond turns to the voice, vision slow and fuzzy, he can barely make it out as Carolina.

A few more people call his name, he doesn't know who they are. He doesn't even know if Washington is his actual name. He hopes he's not having an episode, not in front of everyone. Not in front of these people.

“David? David, can you hear me?” There's hands on him, he doesn't know how many. But they need to get off of him. They need to get off of us.

“Get off! Get away from us! You're scaring him, can't you see?! Get off of us!” He hates this. He hates how his voice turns into Epsilon's. He hates having an AI. He wishes he didn't take the damn chip after they went to get the Sim Troopers.

He wishes a lot of things. They wish a lot of things.

“Us? Wash, chill out! You're scaring everyone.” The blond howls, falling to his knees. Why does Epsilon have to come out now? Why can't he wait? Until he's healed?

‘You and I both know I'll never be healed. Stop fighting it, David. It'll hurt less if you just “chill out.”’

“Shut up, Epsilon.” Wash groans, rolling onto his back. He hates his life.

“Epsilon? What the fuck? Wash has Epsilon?! Hey, Washington! Wake the fuck up and tell us why you have Epsilon!”

‘David, please calm down. I can play a memory for you, so you can be distracted.’

“I don't want a damn memory! I want you to leave!” He screams, Epsilon sighs before deciding to play a memory anyway. Wash has seen this one before. It wasn't his, but he loved it.

It was the one where Allison told Leonard she was pregnant. Not with Carolina. Oh no, not with Carolina. But with him.

Oh, he did love memories. They are really, all he's got.

Time goes by, and Washington has had the memory repeated for him twenty seven times. He thinks that might be all he remembers.

Opening his eyes, he sees bright cobalt blue to his left, and faces all around him. Fuck.

“You have no idea how grateful I am that you're awake. Do you know how many times Tucker tried to tackle me? Also, I've never had to repeat everyone's names to each other so many times, no wonder you're done with this shit.” Epsilon rambles, dimming his color down when he notices Wash squinting at him.

“What did you tell them?” The Ex-Freelancer asks in a raspy voice, sitting up quickly. The AI holds his hands out, “Hey, slow down. I just answered their questions. “Why does Wash have you?” “What happened to you?” “Who's the purple guy again?” Ya know, that stuff.”

“That stuff? What did you say?” Wash asks, sitting up straighter. He feels like he feels Epsilon sitting on his shoulder. But he's not positive.

“I just told them that after you and Lina came to rescue us that you were the one to go through the room and find me. I told them you took me back to Chorus and inserted me into yourself, all by your lonesome. That you passed out for six hours before waking up bleeding and thinking you were Leonard L. Church. I told them everything.”

Washington frowns, looking down. Fuck. Taking Epsilon was a bad idea. He knew it was.

“David, let's stand up. C'mon kid, you got this.” The Fragment encourages in a soft tone, the others exchange confused looks.

The Ex-Freelancer stands up slowly, his legs shaking vigorously. He feels so sick, but he's not going to let that show.

“Four laps.” He coughs, throat tearing slightly. Everyone give him an odd look. “What? Did you forget how to run?”

“You really expect us to run after we just found out you have Church? Yeah right, bitch.” Tucker grabs the man's hand, dragging him to a spot where he can sit.

“We're taking a break. All of us.”

“Why the hell didn't you tell us about Epsilon?!” Carolina yells, stomping after them angrily, Tucker's eye twitches in annoyance. “Why the hell didn't you tell him about his best friends being alive?”

“That's not the point.” She states, a hint of guilt in her tone. “Lina, just drop it.” The AI orders, distracted by Caboose trying to feed him a cookie that he pulled out of nowhere to notice the girl huffing in irritation before leaving.

“No Grif with two f's! This is not your cookie! This is Church's. Oh Church! I missed you so much Church!” Caboose squeals, squishing the cookie in the process. He doesn't seem to notice.

“If none of you will run then practice your aim.” Wash orders, pushing everyone away. Someone seemed to have ordered the Lieutenants to go somewhere else, because they are nowhere in sight. Neither was Florida or Wyoming.

“Like I said before, Wishy Washy. Relax.” York demands, pushing Wash down so he's sitting. “Do you need a lap dance? I'm sure North would be glad to give you one.”

“Wh-What? Shut up, York.” North flushes, hiding his face in his hands. Making South cackle at him.

“I don't need a lap dance. I don't need anything. What I need is for you all to start training before I make you.”

“No offense sir, but what're you gonna do? Reveal that you have another AI? Oooh, scary.” Simmons mutters, Grif chuckles softly.

“No. I'll have Epsilon here go inside your mind and make you relive your father's hatred for you. Get moving, Richard.” The maroon soldier sniffles, “Cockbite.”

The Sim Troopers slowly start running, one by one. Leaving only the Freelancers and Sarge. Who “doesn't take orders from a dirty blue that smells like warm sugar.” Caboose left to get more cookies.

“David, when Maine finds out about this he's going to be pissed.” York states, soft amusement in his tone. Wash rolls his eyes, “Well that's too bad.”

“I don't understand how you're even alive.” South shrugs, trying to seem unbiased about the whole situation.

“I don't understand how you're alive either. I watched David shoot you in the damn head! Then turn you extra crispy!” The Fragment exclaims, brightening moderately.

“Oh hush, a lot of people survive bullet wounds to the head. The other part I'm actually not so sure about…”

“Just rest, David. We'll take care of the Troopers. You're too stressed to be doing anything right now.” North runs his fingers through the blonds hair before turning to walk away with South, both already trying to order the others to stop arguing with each other and do something to help them physically. Wash and Epsilon both know they'll fail, which makes them snicker quietly.

“What're you two laughing about?” York asks, liking the sound of Wash's laugh. The kid deserves to be happy.

“Oh nothing, just the fact that you three are going to be so fucking miserable for the rest of the week.” Epsilon mutters, uninterested in the Gold Freelancer.

“I don't doubt that. I'm putting Nair in North's shampoo for this.” York comments, patting Wash’s cheek before running off to help the twins break up Tucker and Donut's quarrel.

Epsilon laughs again, making Wash smile softly. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Maybe after everything… They are alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A user on here told me they loved this fic and wanted more! I was supposed to update this on their birthday, but me being me did not. Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't know what this is. Tell me the tags I should add. Thoughts?


End file.
